a letter to Rose
by lannistersdebt
Summary: Scorpius enjoys writing, so when he's tired of missing Rose, he pulls out his parchment and he puts his words to paper.


Rose,

If my father's taught me anything, it's that thinking for myself is beyond important. It's critical. He never wanted me to follow behind him, like an innocent lamb being led to slaughter. As a child, that behavior is expected, but there comes a time when one must learn to think for themselves. I can remember conversations at dinner, when he and Mum were still together, where they would actually ask my opinion. It didn't matter if we were discussing the weather, the latest broom model, or politics – they wanted to hear what I had to think, particularly concerning politics. You see, no matter what he tells the world, Father didn't want his attitude toward Harry Potter to bleed over into me. If I didn't like something that Potter was doing, he wanted it to be because I genuinely didn't like it, and not because I was trying to impress him.

When he was a child, he didn't have that. My grandparents weren't unkind to him, but they weren't the best parents, either. They didn't encourage him to be an individual. He was roped in by his feelings for them, by his loyalty, and he was trapped. It forced him into taking a position as a Death Eater, a position he didn't want. It forced him into supporting a cause that he really didn't believe in. Yes, sometimes he acts all big and bad and bold, but if you really get him talking then he admits the truth.

He tells me all the time that if I don't do anything else, I need to be true to myself…to what I know, and what I believe. Even if I want to agree with whatever the people I care most about think, I need to weigh every single idea, every single piece of evidence, against my heart and my own evidence. I should be loyal, but not so loyal that I have to make certain sorts of sacrifices.

And that's why I'm writing you this letter.

I am in love with you, Rose Weasley, and I think I fall for you a little more with every day that passes. You already know this, of course, but since I haven't seen you in almost two months (which feels more like two years), I feel the need to reiterate that.

I went to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes earlier this morning so that I could speak to your father. He was surprised to see me, I think, and really not that pleased. To repeat some of his sentences to me would not be a fitting way for me to speak to a lady, so I won't, but I think you can imagine. From the stories that your mum has told me, he hasn't ever been mindful of how he's spoken around you. I told him what you mean to me, Rose, and he used every single piece of history he could think of to try to tell me why I'm not nearly good enough for you. If my father raised me differently, I might have believed him, but I didn't. I don't.

The very first time I actually _saw_ you, we were eleven. It wasn't long after our first term at Hogwarts started, and you were ahead of me as we headed to the library. I thought it was strange that I wasn't alone in going there, because so many of our classmates practically swore the place off. They'd change their minds later in the term, I knew, but the start was for being social and making friends. You weren't supposed to have studying and completing homework at the top of your list of priorities. But you did, and so did I, and I remember watching your twin red braids bouncing in time with your step.

I read about you in the Daily Prophet – and I don't mean that to sound creepy. Your parents are part of the Golden Trio, after all, so anything that happened in their lives in those early years was fair game for the media. They'll be coming after you next, and who can blame them? I can't. After reading about all the things that our parents went through in their time at school, with the war and everything else, I wanted to meet you just to say that I had. But I was scared to talk to you, so when I pulled the door open for you at the library that day and you thanked me, all I could do was mumble. You probably don't even recall that, but it did happen. Needless to say, my confidence is much improved today.

Rose, there are so many things that I remember. So many things that I want to say. I want to tell you how I remember the way your cheeks turned pink the day I asked you to go to Hogsmeade with me, and how I couldn't believe it when you said yes. I want to tell you about the day we shared that first kiss, and how I was afraid we wouldn't get to a second, but somehow we did. I want to take you back to Hogwarts, to the astronomy tower, where I first told you that I loved you.

I want to stare at the stars while I'm beside you, instead of staring at the stars and wondering if you're doing the same, thinking of me.

I want to have you in my life forever.

Your father may not like it, but your mum seemed fine with it when I spoke to her before the two of you left for your summer in America. My father is ecstatic. If my mum were still around, I'd like to think she'd be happy too. I need you to hurry home. I have a question to ask you, and I need an answer.

Yours, with love,

 _Scorpius_


End file.
